Billows of eye-stinging smoke poured from several chimneys atop the multi-

story brick building—the cotton mill the Bennett family owned. Even from the

street, the hiss of steam boilers and the clank of machinery reverberated loudly.

The streets around the factory and the tenement slums on either side sat forlornly

under a blanket of garbage and soot.

The chill, humid air clung to the mother and son, moistening their skin with

musty dew. A breeze picked up, sending the cold straight through Christopher's

coat, which he had flung hastily over his shoulders and left unfastened.

He shuddered. When the wind passed the tenement, it had picked up a vile aroma of human waste and unwashed bodies. A small and skinny child sat on the

step across the road, dressed only in a thin nightgown despite the biting January

cold, playing with some unidentifiable piece of trash.

The scene did nothing to soothe Christopher's temper, and his voice, when he

spoke, sounded harsher than he'd intended. “Mother, I'm much too young for you

to play matchmaker with me.”

“What a shame,” Julia Bennett said, sweeping a strand of fiery hair away

from her forehead and tucking it back under her bonnet. “You're twenty-four, just the age your father was when we met. Please, son. I'm not asking you to marry her, just to let me introduce you.”

“Why?” Christopher insisted.

This time Julia had to take a moment to consider her words. I hate being here.

While I approve of how my husband and son run this factory, I despise the heat

and noise and filth of the place, not to mention its squalid surroundings.

Tenements like this one are a breeding ground for cholera. She shuddered in disgust. Why the devil am I here?

She knew the answer, though she didn't want to explain everything yet. How

can I explain to my son that an everyday visit with friends naturally led to a turnat the harpsichord, which then revealed what the long, lace sleeves had hidden?

She shook her head. It wasn't the first time she had encountered such

heartbreaking marks on the poor girl, and Julia longed to take her away and keep

her safe.

Alas, Katerina is my friend, not my daughter, and I have no right to interfere, but there is another way to wrest her from the care of that monster. It was an impulsive plan, fraught with potential disaster, but here she was anyway.

Christopher regarded her expectantly.

What to tell him? Something true… but not the whole truth. Not yet. “Why introduce you to her? Because she's not very popular and there's no reason for it.

I want everyone to see there's nothing wrong with her. Dancing with a handsome

young man will help with that.”

“Why do you care?” he asked.

She gave him a disapproving look that condemned his sarcasm, but

answered, nonetheless. “She's my friend.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “How old is this woman?”

Julia threw up her hands in a gesture that recalled her less than genteel upbringing. “Don't look at me like that,” she exclaimed.

The child across the street glanced sharply at them.

Julia lowered her voice. “Katerina is not a dowager. She's nineteen, I believe,

and quite pretty. Please, son, can't you do this one thing for me? Just meet her?”

I suppose I cannot refuse. Once Mother digs her heels in, there's no moving her.

Since she's decided I need to meet her friend, she will not let me hear the end ofit until I do. Better to get it over with quickly. “Oh, all right then,” he agreed sourly. “I suppose you can perform the introductions tonight. I'll meet her, but if

she's some kind of pariah…”

“Oh no,” his mother said quickly, making another of her famously

unrestrained gestures, “just a bit shy, a bit of a wallflower. Nothing more.”

“Katerina what?”

“Valentino,” Julia replied. Her eyes bored into him, but he had no

recollection of any such name.